


The Alleged Destiny of Change

by drvology



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Western, Dragons, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-07
Updated: 2012-01-07
Packaged: 2017-10-29 03:09:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/315157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drvology/pseuds/drvology
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The west was a wild, unforgiving land that offered hardship and danger in the guise of opportunity. Good thing it wasn't the land Jensen had come to tame.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Alleged Destiny of Change

**Author's Note:**

> For the LJ challenge community [spn_reversebang](http://spn-reversebang.livejournal.com/profile), inspired by insane-songbird's [awesome art](http://insane-songbird.livejournal.com/94596.html).

  


Jensen stretched then levered over into one stirrup, dropped from his horse to the hardpack dirt street, patted Girl's rump and murmured, "Good Girl."

He rolled his shoulders, neck cracking as muscles bunched then eased, checked his weapons. Knife snug against his ribs, shortsword and gun heavy at each hip, leather holsters creaking as he stepped from the street onto the warped and rotting boardwalk, and he pinched the brim of his hat lower to hide his eyes. He slung the reins over the hitching post in front of the saloon, left them unknotted because Girl wouldn't go anywhere without him. He was strung tight and alert but showed only weary impatience to be done riding for a lost spell, relied on his honed ability to appear as just another grub billowing traildust, nothing of import or concern.

Mineral Lick was sallow and dry, dilapidated huddle of squat buildings seven long and not two broad, inspired the keen interest to keep on riding. But he needed information, supplies and a long sleep on something softer than the ground. First things first, he needed a drink.

The saloon was the only lively place in town and same as any other he'd been in, not the finest but sure not the worst he'd chanced, batwing doors crooked on tired hinges and the jangle of glasses and low conversation, whirring cards and chinking chips taking no pause as he entered. The air was dark, smoky and reeked with sweat, while the sawdusted floor reeked of spilled drink and probably some blood, corners of the room defiled and likely always damp with piss. Men clustered at tables playing stud or drawing yarns, muttered between themselves gossip and rumors he'd come to overhear, and so far none made notice of him. That's how he intended it to stay.

He swept the inside with his periphery as he made for the bar, tapped it with a silver then pushed the coin from him with a finger and left it to sit, hunched into his elbows tired but wary over the redeye and beer that appeared to tickle his chin.

Most would say best bet for staying alive out here was willingness to get riled, and a greater willingness to kill whoever challenged you. Jensen had learned avoidance was the key. Better to have no reputation than be known for fighting. You're a nobody then nobody minds. Stand up for what you must, fight raw or even dishonest when challenged, but don't invite or needlessly incite. You got a name and stories that go with it, people eventually want a piece of that to call their own.

He wanted something of his own, but a reputation of never hesitating to skin steel then hides wasn't it.

Men spilled west and disappeared into its unforgiving and unknown vastness for different reasons, on the run from their lives, the law, wanting change or simply to be absorbed and forgotten. It changed them, that was certain, made most into harsher caricatures of what they'd once been, forgot for sure as they sunk into killers or weaklings as Jensen had scraped and clawed to keep from becoming. He'd come chasing opportunity and all the others who'd craved the same, the only chance he'd have at grabbing it, and a searing possibility bigger than all the west's acres of untended land almost too good to be true.

Jensen had come west to find, and claim, a dragon.

It could be argued there were plenty to be had back east, where cities bustled and strove and made false importance like kicked-in anthills, but that was a truth that only stretched so far. Dragons were plenty, weren't simply a commodity or elevated as companions, and were permitted by law to a select elite and barred to all others. Dragons, all, were owned and levied by the lording gentry that'd ruled with furthering contempt over everything for long as anyone could remember, were the means to stranglehold political sway, dynastic power, and the sangfroid ruthlessness of keeping each.

Used to be the land was abundant with them, and those patient and skilled enough could wrangle a dragon, tame them, enmesh and enrich their lives. When the east was as gnarled and hardscrabble as out here, so when the species relying on one another meant something, partnerships and assuaging loneliness, the expanded assurance of survival. Any family who'd harnessed the strength and responsibility of owning a dragon gained respect and a say, no matter their station. If anyone could lay hands on a dragon and have that be accepted they were granted authority, a voice in the ways and wiles that things ought to be done, because not just anyone could approach a dragon and have that dragon bow to him. Back when dragons were an honor, not assumed.

That changed over time, of course. The awe and respect naturally granted to those who could charm dragons shifted, narrowed, made it so dragonkeepers were the only citizens, the only law, the only monied power. People forgot how anyone but anyone could tame a dragon, and make their claim to become landowners, have a vote and sway. People forgot how to let a dragon make its own mind, that it was as much up to the dragons as anything.

Years passed, dragons were domesticated and jealously guarded, and were now the exclusive provenance of the ruling class and heredity. Stables of dragons, unridden, nothing more than ornaments and display and for the firstborn son of the firstborn son, generations down the line, because no one who'd tasted power wanted it taken, and those who'd never had it had become convinced by convention that it such a destiny was simply never to be theirs.

The rise of the ruling Houses and the elimination of wild dragons forced everyone else down, buried and defeated, until it was nothing anymore but a shell of and entrenched systems and families older than dirt who held all the power. They'd twisted into distortion all of what this had once been, reckoned and proclaimed the only ability to rule came as birthright, by commodity of dragons.

Then one day someone had broken out and struck west, places on the map that had no definition or end, just some distant somewheres filled with what had to be danger and heartache. They hadn't returned, not dispirited and defeated or corpses. Instead word had trickled back, stories of boundless green wilderness, great sand deserts and eventually even another ocean, and those whispers became itches that led to stirring hope, because it wasn't only land and an avenue of escape fabled to be out there, ready for the taking if only you broke out and grabbed hold, too.

It was dragons, wild dragons, a thing and an idea believed gone from the land centuries ago.

Word had spread like a disease, virulent and insidious and warned not to be trusted, took hold all the same. Most people stayed east. Those who worked for the dragonholders, who had rooted lives and families, the dragonholders themselves. Those with nothing left or nothing at all to lose threw what little they had at the chance for a new start, came west more like a tentative spray than a flood, but they'd come and were here. Then one day a wild and woolly mountain man thought dead or gone insane had torn from the peaks further west than anyone else had pushed, riding the dragon he'd tamed, proving the tales as far more than vain fantasy, cons or fevered lies.

Since then dragon trainers, stablehands, slick profiteers and even whole families had charged west, were streaming to join the outlaws and outliers who'd struggled to establish themselves. It was still tumultuous and untried, cost lives and tears and ruin, but its tantalizing promise beckoned.

Jensen had come of age, and on the day sold every pittance he owned for a carriage ride far as it'd take him, then he'd worked his guts out doing anything required in a dirty, unrepentant frontier town until he'd earned enough to buy a horse, gun and saddle, then he'd kept going. That was more than a year ago and he hadn't looked back, and no matter what being out here stripped from or demanded of him, he wouldn't return.

"Hey, boy!"

The slurred, overloud words got Jensen's attention, not for him but said in that obstinate, spoiling way that all but guarantees trouble. He threw back his shot then sucked his teeth, used that as an excuse to scan the room.

A thick, ugly cuss with a wet heap of chew bulging his cheek hiding under a beard that looked more like mange had a hand raised in front of him, curled his fingers, flicking in-out, waited for an answer.

None immediately came, but it was clear to Jensen who Ugly had been yelling at. Some kid, younger than him, long hair, long legs, long like a sapling growing into its green, not just new to these parts but new to the west and it showed, like the kid still had a spit-shine gleam that'd yet to be tarnished. Jensen hadn't seen the kid when he'd first searched the saloon, meant the kid had probably been trying to blend in. Good for the kid. Not so good was the kid's height, an inch or two on Jensen and he loomed over the bar, making the kid damn tall and so all that blending in was good for nothing soon as the kid stood up.

Ugly grunted as he leaned out from his chair, held the table so he could make a grab for the kid's arm. "Pretty, I'm talking to you." He leered, and the just-as-uglies with him at the table all laughed, guttural and mean like a pack of chittering coyotes circling in on prey.

The kid was caught out, glanced longingly at the batwing doors then back, evaded Ugly's swipe. He splayed his hands in front of him, murmured a short apology like that'd appease and resolve the situation, somehow managed to avoid looking like a rabbit pinned by a swooping hawk, carried a confidence that wasn't quite haughty but wouldn't be swayed, and that too was to his detriment.

Kid like that, tall as anything, with an indefinable air of manners and learning, young and definitely pretty sweet as you please, well. No wonder he'd been noticed, called on it, and Jensen squashed the stray fancy that even short that kid would be pretty enough catch your attention, and hold it.

"I said I was talking to you." Ugly's chair scratched then clattered to the floor when he stood abruptly, and the saloon went from keeping a weather eye to crackling silence.

The kid managed a sidestep then Ugly lunged, but before any contact was made Jensen snapped, "Leave him be."

He had to accept it once said, masked the surprise and anger that welled hard and strong that he'd intervened. He turned nonchalantly so he could lean back against the bar and survey the saloon, Ugly dead-to-rights, the rest of the room avid to see how this added wrinkle would unfold.

"Not sure this is your business, mister."

Jensen put the heel of his hand on his gun, tilted so it showed from under his longcoat, whole body steady, just-try-me willing. "Ain't. But you about cause a ruckus depriving me of my second drink is." He never looked away from Ugly, sensed the kid's continued retreat towards the door.

Smart kid, keep going.

One of Ugly's companions narrowed in on him, nodded through a glare. "I know you."

Jensen drummed his fingers, firm but like he could be tested to impatience, and shook his head.

"Yeah, I do. You're the yellow-bellied bastard who shot Hastings in the back, near Tallpine a-ways, killed him running while you could 'fore he killed you."

Jensen smiled, slow and cold. What difference did it make, really. He never shot anyone in the back--only murderers did such a thing, yellow or otherwise--but he wasn't about to stand here and argue. Besides, credit for killing a man, no matter how the deed was done, wasn't exactly a burden in these parts. Wasn't at contest, anyway; this was just more of their bluster and invitation to be rankled.

He tipped from the bar and gained two bold, unhurried steps, sights still on Ugly and more or less towards the door, couldn't seem like he was trying to run but also had to get himself out of here before things turned on him.

"What's your hurry?" Ugly pushed onto his heels, glanced towards the kid then angled in on Jensen, tried to cut him off. "I'm good to let him go. Yer just as pretty, Yellow, if a bit longtoothed." He didn't wink until the men at his table laughed.

Jensen shrugged, appeared unaffected and refused to be baited, but everything about this situation made him nervous. He was close to being hemmed in, lost in the deadzone between the bar and a table, and nowhere near the swinging doors that'd spill him onto the dusty street.

Ugly got a gleam in his eye, raked Jensen up and down then stared at the kid, said to Jensen, "What, you too good for me, Yellow? Gonna follow that boy for yourself, are you? Or maybe tell me that ain't what you're here for at all, Yellow?" He squirted chew from his cheek onto the floor, barely missed Jensen's boot, purposefully careless with his aim. "Ooh, hey there. You ain't here for the round-up, Yellow, are ya?"

"So what if I am, so what if I ain't. No one's business but my own."

The round-up was a stake claim, for a herd said to have been spotted around Drywrack Canyon, unexplored and said to be deep enough to reach Hell, thick with elders and pines and the roar of running water no one could find. Not a solitary juvenile or an aging dam but an entire herd, more than half-dozen brood mares led by a monster-sized green, proud and untamed. It'd reached almost mythical proportions, as storied as the canyon people reported having seen breathless glimpses of the herd in and he was here for it, alright, same as everybody else.

No one before had captured a whole herd, even a stallion, and men from all parts were gathering to descend. They'd run in a disordered mob of horses and determination, try their hands and hopes at getting the herd, change not only their luck and lives but maybe history, itself.

Unlike others Jensen didn't want them all for himself, to sell to the highest bidder or ride back home in a victory parade. He figured them being wild they remembered what they were, remembered how it'd been to accept rather than surrender, wanted to ride a dragon as its equal, build again the way it'd once been. He wanted that green stallion, the only thing he could remember wanting, outright, beyond the driving hunger and force of will that had impelled him west and insisted he survive.

Drywrack itself would come with those dragons but no title or name, and something the east had lost long ago--the quiet dignity and satisfaction of accomplishment that's hard-earned, respect to wield that's self-made. Jensen same as everyone else out here had shimmering dreams and near desperate plans for the herd. Mineral Lick was the nearest anything to Drywrack. It's why he'd given up everything, why he risked his neck in this ruthless west, why he'd come to Mineral Lick's dank saloon.

Of course it was, and everybody knew it, same as knowing he regretted interfering where the kid was concerned but wouldn't back down.

"You and the boy I can imagine easy, pay to watch even don't make no never mind, but you riding against the mob? That's just too much." Ugly twitched, grinned at his friends. "What say, think Yellow's here to ride in the round-up? You gonna ride the boy or in the round-up, Yellow, which is it? Maybe you're thinking both, that it?"

Jensen ignored Ugly and the cackling sneers that tried to bully him into drawing his gun. Five at the table, two behind him he'd become aware of since straightening from the bar, and Ugly. More than he had bullets for, outright, and he wasn't to the point of being willing to sacrifice his knife, couldn't be sure others in here wouldn't decide to back Ugly or join the fray for the sport of a brawl.

"Gentlemen, I do apologize, but this man is already in my employ, and such I must deprive you his riding for you in the round-up or- otherwise." The kid almost had it, veneer razor-thin but holding, smiled at Ugly then he flung a handful of coins onto their table. "Please, allow me. In fact." The kid threw a small leather pouch at the bar and it landed with a telltale cha-chunk thud then spread his arms, encompassed the whole room, and yelled, "On the house, everyone, please!"

The saloon seemed to take a breath, then it erupted as men clambered for the bar, and in the noise and distraction the kid kicked out, leveled Ugly with a hard, crunching blow to the knee then a knee to the groin. Jensen drew and fired off one shot, winged Ugly's righthand man midreach and still seated, then ran them from the saloon.

He grappled the kid in front of him, pressed them against the building beside the swinging door, a dodge closer than anyone would think to shoot and almost to where he'd hitched Girl.

"How'd you get here, kid?" he demanded.

The kid blinked stupidly. "Name's Jared." Not exactly an answer.

Jensen guessed the stage or hired horse, made little difference. He leapt sideways into the saddle, landed knelt more than settled and hauled the kid up behind him, then he spurred Girl to a run and rounded the saloon into an alley then zagged further into town, turned sharply to cross main street and between the opposite stand of buildings, then another sharp turn carried them out into the desert, din from the saloon spilling into the dust and nipping at their heels.

Girl kept speed and true, ate up miles without falter or complaint, but she could only run so far and so hard under both their weight.

Jensen doubled back then dragged the kid from the saddle, explained clipped and short how to mask their trail and to get going, while he found a shallow where they could ford the swift tumbling river they'd come against. The kid returned, done exactly as told, looked up at him with a quiet thanks he'd brushed off and the offer of his name that Jensen found himself repeating, then he climbed with telling familiarity into the saddle without pause or even a hand.

They'd leave behind false tracks, appear like they'd headed south to follow the river instead of crossing it.

Halfway across the river Jared shivered, hands knuckling in Jensen's shirt so as to make Jensen laugh, but Jared didn't let up, boots unavoidably drinking the cold water while they picked their way through the current. Jensen listened for riders on their tail and watched where they were going. Once clear of the water and hidden behind its far bank Jensen relaxed, scratched under his hat and begged, not for the first time, for an answer of just what had he gotten himself into. Of just what it was about Jared that made this feel the best, the only, decision he could have made.

Even if he could think of a good reason it wouldn't change what he'd done or what had to be dealt with now. He should shake the kid, make for Drywrack and scout the canyon, then snare that stallion and its herd. Just that easy. Somehow.

"Ah, mister- sir? Are you going to ride in the round-up?" Jared's soft question hazarded Jensen's taut displeasure.

"Call me Jensen, kid."

Jared huffed. "Then call me Jared, Jensen." He braved tugging Jensen's coat, offered evenly, "I'm going to, and I'm sure you realized that's why I was even in Mineral Lick, same I realize that's the only reason you'd go someplace like that."

"Someplace like that is where I live, _kid_." Jensen smirked, lifted his shoulder because Jared's breath was distracting and tickly on his neck. "Okay so you're kinda smart, and you're either going to conjure a horse or give it a go on foot, and I'd say Mineral Lick's the first place you swallowed whiskey after sneaking away from wherever back east you came from. Guess you think that means you've proven yourself and have a fighting chance."

"What I think is we should do it together, and with the two of us, we'll win." Jared was matter of fact, either wasn't bothered by Jensen's bite or did a damned good job of carrying on despite.

"Yeah? Why's that," Jensen snorted.

"Because I trust you and you trust me, and because we'll have an advantage."

Jensen cursed and rolled his eyes, because he'd already done decided he wasn't going to say anything, that he and Jared had no need or reason to get to know one another, and he shouldn't invite Jared thinking different. He ignored the fit of Jared's legs snug to his, the pressure of Jared's cheek at the dip of his shoulderblades, the heat their bodies generated. Felt too good to pay long attention to, and not like he had the luxury to trick his fancy into thinking he could get used to this.

"Why'd you go and stick your nose in it?"

Jared propped his chin on Jensen's shoulder, tucked under Jensen's hat with a smile. "Maybe you didn't notice, but you were a bit outnumbered."

Jensen grunted. "I'd have been fine. No thanks to you, either way."

"You needed help." Jared sounded sincere, like he'd seen, intended and acted on only that.

"People out here don't help unless they're wanting something in return." It was a hard-won lesson Jensen had bitterly learned. He wasn't about to get caught being the fool about this, of all things, not when he was so close to so much more.

"Meaning?" Jared stiffened, kneaded his fingers to loosen his hold.

Jensen pretended not to mind. "Meaning I want to know what you want from me, what you'd expected to get out of helping me back there."

Jared didn't answer, sighed past a click then leaned away and let his hands slip, taken from Jensen completely, to rest on his thighs. They settled into disquiet more than silence, rife with questions and uncertainties and what might be unfair disappointments on either side. Girl sensed the change, flattened her ears and chuffed discontentedly. Jensen watched shadows lengthen and darken as the wind teased dust and brambles in skittering lines and vees over the land, studied the horizon in search of white streamer or black pitch giveaways, saw nothing but signs of their increasing solitude.

It'd be night soon, too soon to get from under this situation quick as he'd have preferred, and not only was he out a drink and a bed, he was facing having to them somewhere warm and safe to make camp, but he'd damn break it on his own before dawn.

"Do you know Widow's Gorge?" Jared picked out of the wind, showed his grit in being willing to ask Jensen something more, had fallen forward with Girl's insistent gait, forehead pushed heavy below Jensen's nape.

Jensen nodded, fought wanting Jared to stay just like that, for however long. Longer.

"Then take me there. Please."

No one went even near Widow's Gorge voluntarily, at least none so as Jensen was aware. It was a barren, desolate place, bereft of water or shelter, nothing but sheer-cut sides bruised and worn by tumbled boulders and open crags that dizzied and played tricks on a man's mind. The gorge itself wailed, haunted and crazy, sang backwards and shrill with even the lightest of breezes. It'd been given a name so people could speak it as a place to avoid.

When Jensen didn't offer more Jared pressed, "You can leave me there too, if you want. Or even leave me here if you have to, that's fine. All I ask is you point me in the right direction to start walking."

Jensen clucked and wheeled them gently northwest into the setting sun, craned around and snapped, "We're almost there already. Wouldn't leave-" He shook away, bit back wanting to say more. "It's mean dangerous out here, no matter. Then the darker it gets, the meaner it gets. Understand?"

Despite Jared's stubborn silence, he took Jared's arms creeping to loop his waist again as answer and acquiescence, urged Girl down a washout gully into a rocky valley stained chalk and crimson, set them towards the rock formation of a double arch with accompanying spire that'd lead them to the gorge. Jared stayed against him and they both stayed quiet, and Jensen still couldn't decide any which way of what would bring Jared out west, much less west and wanting to see the Widow.

It wasn't too hard of going, flattened ground soft without shifting underneath, less than an hour's worth with Girl keeping steady pace as the hush of golden gloam descended, and Jensen berated himself the whole ride. For letting Ugly needle him for so long in the saloon, for getting mired into needing help, for hating the idea of dumping the kid in the gorge then splitting, even if it's what the kid wanted.

Jensen nudged them to thread the narrow and rising crack in the bluff that'd spine them into and past sentry walls and to the gorge, hooves clopping hollow and dull as they climbed, and Jensen had never feared this place even if he'd never had any desire to see it for himself.

Soon as they emerged from the crack the Widow whined at them, and Jared was down, fidgety and eager for Jensen to follow. He laughed and tugged them from the ravine to climb the pocked sandstone until they broke into the sun and over the ridgeline.

It was beautiful, everything bathed in pink, the shadows bronze and mellow, rim of the gorge almost white reflecting the setting sun as stars pinpricked the yawn of turquoise-into-purple sky that domed overhead. The gorge seemed an abyss, slurry bleed of brown and blue and black funneling deeper and deeper into the earth, darker for the contrast of the sun glimmering and molten as if it'd soon melt on its edge.

Jared gave Jensen a moment then he closed his eyes, seemed to make up his mind, and nodded. He whistled, sharp and clear and trilling like a bird, like the old stories said the sky warriors did. Then he ran from Jensen, skidded down the sloping rockface and leapt over the gorge's lip without hesitation, and Jensen's heart throttled then stopped dead cold.

Everything went eerie and still, critters and the Widow and the wind, and the sun seemed to halt its slip into night, shimmered in wait then he heard it. Felt it, a rhythmic hum-thrum, low and sonorous like lifebreath or the plowwind that carries just ahead of a storm. It prickled an awareness in him, some kind of electric, instinctive call he couldn't define, quell or contain. Then a shadow rose from the bowels of the cairn Jared had brought them to and crested the sky, hovered in the blind of the fading sun, and Jensen staggered as the approaching bulk made sense to his eyes and took form.

It was a dragon, rippling muscles and scales blue in the dark and glinted green-gold under the sun, huge and alive and amazing. Jared rode bare astride its back, no harness or lead, and the two moved in artless surety. They lit near where Jensen stood, and he expected the ground to vibrate as the dragon approached but it moved as if without weight, until it was less than two paces gone from where Jensen stared, rooted.

Jared stepped down using a haunch then he jumped the rest of the way, trailed his hands along the dragon's neck as he walked, coaxed the dragon's head to eye-level so they could all make measure of one another, perhaps make acquaintance, and Jensen's heart had gone from dead cold to a deafening thunder. The dragon chirped and followed Jared's touch, gave Jensen an indolent once-over but stayed back.

Jensen shivered, wondered if Jared would laugh.

He'd never seen one before, not even on holidays as a boy back east, when the Houses would open their grounds for tours and viewing. He could feel its breath, the heat of the sun that'd soaked into its sinew and hide, its aura and sentience similar to when Jensen swore Girl was listening to his trail ramblings but different, more, deeper. It was overwhelming but it didn't frighten him.

Instead he closed his hands to fists to keep from trying to touch and clapped his tongue to the roof of his mouth to keep from babbling.

"See?" Jared's eyes sparked with mischief, triumph and affection, all swirled and part of the whole that captivated Jensen relentlessly as Jensen had tried to refuse it. He was all confidence, no need for show or bravado here, and this was real. "Told you we'd have an advantage."

Jensen shook his head, mind whirring fast and faster as plans and possibilities formed then overturned, almost felt ashamed. Jared had tamed this beast, trusted Jensen with it. Who had green showing just under their skin now.

Chase a dragon on foot and you're sunk. Risk it on horseback and you might have a chance. Dragon on dragon -- it was too tantalizing a promise to dwell on. He stared at Jared, wondered where this gangly, untried kid had gotten a dragon, any dragon, never mind one such as this, hands and heads taller than them and a wingspan to double that, whipcord tail coiled full of power, smart and responsive and trained with fathomless, expressive eyes.

"You stole him," he accused, and the words choked false.

"Can't steal what's yours," Jared whispered, seemed not to realize he'd said anything. He scratched the dragon's nose, traced scales and contours and smiled when the dragon butted closer and started to purr. There was a knowing between them, trust and intimacy, spoke of things far deeper and longer than just having found each other by chance in the desert and deciding to make a go together. This was no wild beast, and Jared wasn't simply another orphan or thief trying to outrun memory. The dragon hitched and tilted, and Jared's sleeve puddled down his arm as he reached to clean a crust of sand from the flare of a whisker at the dragon's cheek, revealed a flash of color and distinctive shape.

Jensen's heart flopped into his belly.

He grabbed Jared's wrist, held it punishingly tight as he turned them both until they were facing each other, ignored the dragon's hiss of warning and shoved Jared's overshirt up then off. Disbelief and dread filled him and he glared at Jared, wasn't sure why this seemed like such a betrayal, head ringing, from the shock of the dragon then this to stab into him full on its heels. He twisted Jared's arm further to expose the soft inner span to the dying light and Jared didn't protest, had gone square-shouldered and still, mix of anger and readiness that was salted with desperate, almost hidden fear Jensen could smell, thick and heady, the dragon emoting to match Jared's clash of apprehension and defiance.

Jensen stared at the mark on Jared's arm, looked at where his grip had turned Jared's skin from blotchy red to strained white, dropped his chin and his hold, then he let out a breath and stepped away.

Jared was- he was- _shit_.

The mark was a tattoo, unmistakably so and nothing anyone could or would dare to forge. Right arm for Lords, left arm for Ladies, and here Jared was with one, etched bonedeep and carried from birth, the signet of privileged destiny easy as you please on Jared's skin. Intricate in design, flecked with precious metal dust and drawn in colors only available to the leading houses of the leading class, said Jared's family had influence and wealth beyond Jensen's imagining.

All sorts of trouble would follow that tattoo. Someone from East in search, take Jensen out once Jared was found for the pleasure or collateral or just the heck of it. Someone out here would skin Jared for it, trophy or misplaced revenge or sheer belligerence, while others would seize on it as their opportunity to hit the bigtime, ransom Jared in hopes that the family would pay, and pay dearly, for their missing son.

The tattoo explained the dragon, their obvious bond, was more than Jensen should get tangled with. He tipped his hat back, dragged his sleeve across his brow, denied the pull to stay and the unwanted truth that it wasn't the threat of trouble that had upset him.

"Jensen-" Jared sprang after him, got in his way, so close and so close to touching it jangled Jensen's nerves. "It's nothing. Not anymore and not to anyone, especially my family, since I took Asha and ran."

"So you did steal him."

"He was dying! And I didn't steal him. Asha's mine, always has been, always will be." Jared grabbed a handful of Jensen's shirt and crowded in, moved until their gazes met. His other hand fluttered then landed on Jensen's hip, just above the low-holstered gun, and his cheeks blazed pink with temper while his eyes snapped fire.

"They're all dying, overbred and captive and weak with something I can't name but I know is killing them. No one cares if they live long enough to substantiate House claims and maintain the status quo, makes no difference so long as they serve their purpose. Asha and I have been together since we were little, and I might just be second in line but he's mine, my responsibility. I thought maybe whatever has made them sick could be cured by wild dragons, find out what's different and what's going wrong. Maybe it's just a sadness, a state of mind that can't be cured, I don't know, but I couldn't stand idle and just let Asha die. I wouldn't."

Jensen reeled. Second in line with a dragon of his own--meant Jared had an older brother, that their House had at least two other dragons, one for the firstborn and one for the father, had clout and riches enough to provide Jared with a luxury dragon. A prestige of status that was preciously rare, and rarely attained.

Jared blinked back tears, stared into the distance and the shroud of night overtaking them. "Out here at least there's fresh air, more sky than can be accounted for, if nothing else would give him a few more years, good years." Jared licked his lips then he rubbed slow circles on Jensen's hip with his thumb, probably wasn't even aware of doing it, curled Jensen's toes. "Then I heard about the round-up and came to this territory to join, and then, well, then I found you. Or you found me. We found each other." He smiled, shallow and fragile, remembered to take a breath.

"I was born nothing and I've never been anything but nothing." Jensen blinked, looked away, blanched pale and stung with bile at having actually said that.

Jared shook his head, smoothed Jensen's shirt then flattened his palm over Jensen's heart. "So? That doesn't mean you can't turn out to be a hero."

"Don't be stupid." Jensen laughed, short and choppy, pretended there was no flare of hope and rightness in him that rose to meet the warmth of Jared's hand, steady and firm on his chest.

"We're both victims of our birth, misfortune if you see it one way, luck if you see it another. I won't argue that. But one thing I've never been is stupid." Jared eased closer, darted a glance at the dragon then met Jensen's eyes again. "If I was stupid I'd have stayed home and believed the healers who'd said not to worry. Or I'd have decided I could handle the round-up on my own. Or, it wouldn't be only you I trusted to bring here."

"Why did you?"

Jared shrugged. "Same reason you stood up for me in the saloon, dragged me out of there and all the way to the Widow, even though you were sure you shouldn't and didn't want to. I'd bet you can't explain that any better than when I saw you do it I knew, knew you'd help me and that we could do this." His face scrunched adorably and he leaned in, said earnestly, "I started with everything and I might end up nothing, but I'm willing to risk it. I came this far, for Asha, for myself, and I'm not giving up now."

"Kid, this is going to be hard, damn hard and then some, and you ain't ever had anything but easy."

Jared clenched his jaw, eyes fiery again, but stayed silent.

Jensen sighed. "We have two days, one tired horse and-"

"And my dragon." There was no mirth or guile, simply a wellspring of calm acceptance, belief.

Jensen thought it over, watched Asha appraise him then nudge into Jared seeking scratches and to mask a slight bow, and he couldn't explain it either, still knew it to be true.

He covered Jared's hand with his, unerring, tried to play light but said like taking a vow, "And your dragon."

  


Jensen scowled when he struck his flint and got nothing more than a skinned knuckle and an anemic spark. He raised a brow. "Don't see why your lizard there can't bellow or spit, do this for me."

"I told you, it doesn't work like that. Even if it did, that's a little beneath Asha's dignity." Jared paused from fussing their bedrolls, canted hands on hips to regard Jensen with all due asperity, had arranged them to sleep one to either side of the fire Jensen _would_ get started.

"No, move yours over here. Put 'em together." Jensen didn't look to meet the amused, questioning stare he could feel, heavy on him, just hunched back over his kindle and set the flint again.

After he'd agreed to Jared's instinct or sense of them, whatever it was, he'd made to saddle up and suss out a campsite before night paralyzed them with its shroud, open and vulnerable at the gorge's edge.

Jared had stayed him, asked who'd balk more at being carried by a dragon--Girl or her owner--and before Jensen could even feint umbrage, Asha had Girl clutched close and Jensen on his back. Soon as they'd tilted into the gorge its cold had drenched them, cold in its rocks and seams and veins, a place so deep as this never having benefit of a dry desert wind or the blast of full sun. At first it seemed devoid of any meaning, disorienting and sticky with shadow, light of the setting sun a pale aurora floating insignificantly overhead. Asha had lofted them down into the recesses of the Widow and her shelter, landed them on a broad, flat outcrop banded with tenacious bunchgrass and vine and shelled by a gracefully sloping cave, somewhere amid the impenetrable gloom below and forever.

Jared had needed to coax Jensen's fisted grip from Asha's spine ridges, and at that Jared had laughed. Jensen had been kept from minding by the flash of errant dimples and Asha, solid and reassuring under them as they'd slid to the ground. The outcrop was already set in, stores and stacked firewood, from Jared and Asha's few nights here prior. As Jared had offered pragmatically, what better place to stay with a dragon than where no man was willing to go.

Girl had been unruffled, whickered softly at Asha then had grazed their perimeter, now stood serenely pruning a bramble bush to its roots. Jensen had untacked and combed her down, scratched between her ears and called her a traitor.

Jensen dragged the flint across the silkweed he'd bundled with dead grass, grunted when blue-orange sprites showered then landed, blew without cease and past his lungs aching until the sparks caught, consumed the silkweed and roared into flame. He shifted the start onto the pile of spongy mesquite and flaking cedar bark, puffed at it until it all caught and he could tell it'd continue to burn, then he propped his hands on his thighs.

He'd convinced himself of his reasons they should sleep to mirror like they'd crossed the desert, fit so snug on Girl's back, to say evenly, "It'll be colder than the fire can reach tonight, makes more sense to have as much under us as we can get, share blankets and heat."

Jared hummed softly, bit down on a smile, but didn't argue.

Dinner was quick and unsatisfying, hard biscuits, a strip of salt pork each and water, and from there it was useless to think about doing anything more. Jensen's eyes were dragging like sandpaper and Jared's were noticeably heavier, and it was too dark to bother sketching just how they were going to manage this feat of besting the herd and the mob, both of them too tired to even chew it over while lying there.

After Jensen banked the fire they shifted and folded into the bedroll, painfully aware of each other and a sudden tension, and Jensen told himself to think about something else, anything else, count to the thousands and pray sleep found him. He studied the stars, thought about myth and guides and constellations, decided what he and Jared were doing wasn't written anywhere up there.

He closed his eyes, discovered he was nothing but curled fists and drawn shoulders, told himself to stay relaxed but on his back. Lay quiet and count his breaths, get some rest and regain some strength, needed that beyond having no business doing whatever more with, to, this kid.

"Jensen?"

He sighed, cracked an eye. "Hrrmph, _almost_ asleep."

Jared hovered above him, close and blurry with dancing firelight and saturated with shadow. He waited, and when Jensen opened both eyes Jared shuffled onto his knees and started to shrug out of his clothes.

Jensen jacked upright, shushed and pressed his hands in front of him, not quite touching. "Hey, no, nothing I'm expecting like that." Moved so fast and ready to prevent Jared doing anything more. Rash, innocent, leading, didn't matter, because he wanted the opposite, so much, so bad.

"Exactly like that." Jared shook his head tightly, was out from his overshirt and down to a button-up, undid that to his navel, split it to reveal another layer and the rise of his bared shoulder.

Jensen had forgotten his hands, mostly because of his insistent want. Wanted to keep pressing and actually touch, left them where they were. Jared smiled, circled his wrist with long, careful fingers, bridged the distance with gentle insistence. Soft, he thought dumbly, the silk of Jared's undershirt and the flirt of skin, warm with Jared's heat he swore he could see in the dark, would be pink and blushing, supple as the curve of a petal.

He opened his hand instinctively, palm placed to cup Jared's shoulder, then the heel of his hand dragged over something. Something wrong. Jensen frowned, bent closer to investigate, had to feel it to really see. It made him suck in, sharp, and he looked up at Jared, watching him intently, Jared trembling for all the wrong reasons, and Jensen couldn't figure why this would be what worried Jared he'd denounce.

"I told you the Mark was nothing." Jared's smile turned, sad and disillusioned but without defeat as one could fair expect, more than anything Jensen could ever think to teach this kid about life and all its hardship and unkindness. Jared found Jensen's other hand, ran it up his side to another scar, bullet burn that'd furrowed a line under his ribs. That would have been the first, second, even third shot. The one under Jensen's palm, the last.

Rage surged through Jensen and he sat straighter, hooked his other arm around Jared's hips and drew them together. He untangled his hand and wrapped it around Jared's back so he could again slide it under Jared's clothes, searched for a matching scar. His breath rose in forced, choppy pants and he leaned forward, Jared tucked into his chin and held tight against him as he traced the edge of the fresh healed, ragged bullet wound. It stretched between Jared's shoulderblades, told him a long, agonizing story in so little, clash of too many things, terror and utter loss, uncertainties and iron will. Nothing easy. Jared making no clean escape, Jared bleeding out, heart barely missed, maybe even nicked along with a lung, Jared struggling to live then wake after, only to have to struggle to survive out here.

Nothing easy at all.

Jared patted the handholds he had on Jensen's arms. "On the bright side, it doesn't hurt anymore." He chuckled darkly. "That and I bet they think I'm dead. Asha wasn't hit--that's the only reason we made it--because of course, they only tried to get what wasn't important to save."

Jensen shuddered, and his rage crumbled and gave way to fierce relief he wasn't going to acknowledge or be able to deny. He tilted his cheek to rest on Jared's head, gathered Jared even closer into him, didn't know what to say. Just held onto Jared and rocked them slowly as the moon cut the lip of the gorge, spilled in to find them, and the Widow sighed with the wind.

The lightest sensation brushed his neck and Jensen opened his eyes, found himself confronted point-blank with Asha's luminous amber stare. The dragon had curled to surround their bedroll, head lifted over Jared, scales gleaming dully and long tail disappearing in a furling coil behind Jensen. He stammered briefly, strangled a flinch when Asha lowered, and kept purposefully still as his hair was preened. Not a warning or sniffing him out, drawn from his anger and distress and the desire to protect and soothe, and after awhile longer Asha whuffed hotly against his neck and pulled away.

Jared sighed on a full breath, sound of his smile eased. "He likes you."

"Yeah, well." Jensen swallowed, hard. "He's not so bad."

They tipped sideways, perfectly natural, indefinably perfect, too weary and wanting for this contact to deny it or stay upright. Jensen covered them with his coat, and they stretched and settled together as they lay. Jared yawned under his ear as they settled into Asha's warm flank.

Asha checked on them then tucked his head on his legs, and they fell into the lulling quiet of the dragon's steady breath, but Jensen could hear Jared thinking.

Finally Jared said lowly, "You're a charmer."

Jensen tangled his fingers in Jared's hair and grinned. "You're not so bad, either."

Jared laughed shortly and shook his head. "Thanks, but I meant about Asha--about dragons--you're a charmer. Or would be, if such a thing were still allowed."

He didn't answer, didn't want to delve into wounds and directions he'd long ago made himself abandon. Good with animals, sure. Had horsesense and hadn't ever been afraid of dogs, had abilities and confidence and animals took to him, no matter. Couldn't have gotten him anywhere, certainly not close to any House dragon, not even highborn enough to shovel shit.

"I mean, don't you think? That has to mean something too, us having this, whatever, about each other, and you with Asha, and how we'll get the herd. Might help us, we can use that because I think it's true. I'm sure of it." Jared licked his lips, stared at Jensen. "How'd you get out here?"

"Look, kid, you and me ain't-"

Jared shook his head, moved abruptly in Jensen's hold to roll over. "I'm sorry, it's none of my business."

"-having this conversation yet," Jensen finished, said quiet and consoling against Jared's neck. "I was beat tired when I clapped eyes on you in the saloon, and nothing done from then but push more and further along. Let's get some sleep, then figure out how to win tomorrow. Then, well, we'll go from there. Deal?"

Jared craned to look at him, cheek hot at Jensen's nose, then his fingertip when he couldn't resist touching, had to feel that blush and Jared's dimple when Jared smiled.

"Deal."

"Alright. Now- sleep."

Asha had peeled an eye, and without thinking Jensen massaged a seam of overlain scales, nodded like he had this and it'd be fine. Asha grunted and fell again to dozing.

Jared eased back around, pillowed on Jensen's chest and seemed, like that, was as it should be.

Tired as he was, Jensen was sure he wouldn't sleep, too much on his mind and at stake. He combed his fingers through Jared's hair and listened to Asha breathe, listened for and found Girl not far from them. Water was nearby, flowed then dropped then rang somewhere far down in the Widow, sang to match the wind, and Jensen followed the song until he woke, startled, dawn rising ice blue and promising a day that'd be short and cold.

He blinked, rubbed his eyes, found the split of the spring that'd lulled him cracking the rockface, and it tumbled like mellow whiskey in the foundling light, only a pace or two from their camp. He wriggled free and tucked Jared back in, left the kid to sleep, much as could be gotten before he had to get on his way. Checked on Girl and found her fine, then tickled the fire so they could at least throw back some coffee to wet their gullets and dry breakfast.

When the coffee gurgled and the salt pork he'd laid on a rock popped he bent over and gave Jared a shake. Jared responded, soft and muzzy and trusting, and something stirred in him, something foolish and hopeful and wanting. He swallowed it back, shuttered away, didn't linger to let Jared's face stay in his palm and avoided Jared's gaze as he created distraction, filled the two pale green enamel cups to his name and poked at the salt pork with a stick.

"Black best be your flavor, otherwise." He shrugged, and Jared took the cup he'd hooked in his thumb to pass over without a word. Jensen stared into the Widow's gloom through the curtain of steam that rose from his cup and wreathed its way around, sipped a few tentative swallows, then he clenched the hand that'd raised goosebumps on Jared's waking skin into a fist then stuck it in the placket of his shirt.

Damn foolish.

He threw his coffee at the fire, listened to it hiss and dance as he shoved into his duster and hat, strode from Jared and said brusquely, "Asha's getting me and Girl out of here, then I'll ride on to the canyon. Two of you stay behind."

"But the ride will take half the day! Asha would have us there in-"

"-in plenty of time and opportunity to birddog us to any one of the assholes who showed to this territory to gain the herd. Girl won't be able to double us there and back, wouldn't ask her to even if she could. Besides, don't need that stallion catching scent of your dragon and getting antsy or primed for a challenge." Jensen paused, raised a brow at where Jared had stood to follow. "You stay."

He made quick work of saddling and provisioning Girl, left behind his bedroll, food, anything that'd keep Jared in any improved comfort.

"Stay? Asha isn't a pet. Neither am I." Jared crossed his arms and widened his stance, darkly stubborn.

"Fine. You won't tell him to get me outta here, I will." Jensen scoffed and threw his hands.

Jared tilted in Jensen's way, glared hard and mean as he probably knew to, flash of spirit and determination Jensen couldn't help but admire. "What about the next day?"

"We worry about that the next day." Jensen shouldered past, jabbed an elbow at the kid for good measure.

"He won't do it unless I say." Doubt had crept into Jared's tone, a faint warble Jensen hurt to hear, because it wasn't about Asha or Jared's readiness to fight for this, it was about Jensen.

Jensen smirked, jerked a thumb at himself. "Charmer, remember?"

"Fine! Go ahead and try. But this? This _is_ stupid."

Asha had risen to all fours, had his head stuck in widest flume of the spring, turned and shook off to spray Jensen with cold water. He chirped, probably aimed to see if he could knock Jensen down when he stretched a wing.

Jensen refused to be intimidated or drawn into play, crooked a finger and grinned sharply. "C'mere."

Asha looked at Jared a moment then just stood there, pretended fascination with the sunlight cutting the gloom to spear down into the Widow.

"You'd make I don't know how many pairs of nice boots, dragon. I ain't afraid to try and find out," Jensen guttered.

Girl whinnied and Asha seemed to shrug, then yawned.

"C'mere," Jensen tried again, tipped forward then added low and rough, "Damnit, c'mere _please_."

Asha perked at that, bent with a rush of air to pin Jensen with snapping, inquisitive eyes.

Jensen took a small step back then made himself stop. "Listen, you fly me and Girl out then stay here with Jared. He's thinking nonsense, will try and tell you otherwise, but it's simple as that." He waited an agonizing moment, and Asha pulled back, seemed to consider him, then he tugged his kerchief loose from his back pocket and started mopping up when Asha did him the favor of blowing in his face. "Yeah, thanks--least it wasn't fire, right?"

He could hear Jared chuckle, weighed his options, then on instinct and sudden temper he snagged Asha's nostril, brought them level once more. "I don't know what you get and what you don't, not sure I fully care, but you'd better understand this. I want Jared to stay here so he doesn't get hurt. Want you to stay with Jared and see that he doesn't."

Jensen wondered if Asha would take him all the way to Drywrack, through tomorrow and the round-up and get this done and finished, wondered if Jared would ever forgive him that. Didn't have time to weaken to or regret his decision because heavy on his words Asha gained, definitely understood, and Jensen had enough wits to scramble aboard then Asha had Girl plucked up and they were off.

He refused to feel bad, refused to look at Jared, would only get things he didn't want to confront, anyway. Asha carried them easy to the lip of the gorge, set them down. Jensen's sweat prickled, colder in the open wind and on a rise that had yet to greet the sun, and he sat there a minute hating everything. He stared at Girl, felt Asha's anxiety palpable as his own, anger too that was probably Jared's and the dragon's. He fell curled in, pressed his forehead to Asha's neck, breathed in long and deep, and then again, and then again. Thought about Jared, knew he couldn't leave and leave the kid behind, not like this.

Maybe not ever.

Jensen straightened with a slapped curse and Asha didn't even wait for a word, just rose then dove back down into the murky gorge, aimed unerringly for where they'd left Jared.

"Kid?" he yelled at Jared's back, tsk'd when he got no response beyond the tightening of Jared's mutinous shoulders.

They hovered, and Asha finally barked sternly so that Jared turned to them.

"Don't you make me get down and ask," Jensen shouted.

Jared had gathered and packed their camp, gave up pretense, ran for them like Jensen would change his mind. Jensen caught one clanking bedroll before it brained him, strapped the next alongside at Asha's haunch as Jared got astride.

"What, you thinking you'd climb outta here or something?"

Jared didn't pick at the barb, just pressed back into Jensen's arms and panted breathlessly, "But I thought-"

"-you were right. This is stupid." Jensen shook his head.

Jared growled. "You've about turned the infuriating bad habit of interrupting me into an art."

"Yup." Jensen grinned, slung an arm around Jared's hips, flip-flop in his belly and senses, not only from having Jared close, but with him again. With him again, where Jared just seemed to belong. He'd take Jared, make it his job to keep Jared safe. Had to. "Maybe try plowing new ground here out, quit making it so easy on me."

Asha was on the move, had gotten them more than half the choppy ascent. They broke from the Widow a second time, and Asha crow-hopped an effortless landing not far from where Girl had remained, stout as ever and placidly accepting of the situation.

Jensen unstrapped their packs then dismounted Asha, held a hand out for Girl to approach and praised her with soft noises, stroked the velvet between her eyes. She leaned into him and he smiled. "Good Girl."

"What changed your mind?" Jared near surprised Jensen, right behind him, heat and excitement and vital presence.

Jensen made busy resecuring Girl's firm tack, gestured vaguely. "Better plan, needed you along instead of wasting my time to go back."

Asha squawked and Jared looked over, listened a moment as Asha chattered. Then he peered back at Jensen speculatively, smiled slow and said, "Oh, I see."

Jensen watched them, cottoned on, poked a finger at Jared. "Don't believe a word he says." Then he dragged his finger through the air and pointed at Asha. "And you just stay quiet, dragon."

Jared grinned, not full-out but most certainly pleased, and Asha purred serenely while Jensen continued to grumble.

The Widow screamed in warning, coil of storm hunched in the distance miles out but a tangible threat, black, bulbous and foreboding. Girl couldn't double them much after yesterday's effort and with needing her tomorrow, and Asha wouldn't be able to carry them all the way to the canyon, not even on a good day. Jensen tightened Girl's cinch, felt Jared's stare hard and eager at his nape, wished for them to at last get something easy.

The wind kicked a dust squall into a twist, funneled it through a gash in the earth past scrub pines and distorted trees, chased it from them fast into the desert, devil on its tail. He narrowed on it, then inspired surety rippled down his spine, enlivened his blood.

Wasn't going to be easy, but it could work. Would work.

He spun on a heel, hastily crowded Jared, grabbed hold of the kid's shoulders. "Need you to ride Girl, best pace you can manage, make for the canyon but be on the lookout for somewhere to hole up when those clouds catch us. Need you to trust me with Asha." Jensen swallowed, shielded them under the brim of his hat. "We'll come back for you. I'll come back."

Jared pressed his hands beneath the wings of Jensen's coat, framed Jensen's ribs. "Considering you're leaving your favorite Girl behind? I never doubted it--this time."

Jensen nodded, let Jared have that. Only fair.

"Are you sure you have to go alone? I can help."

"You getting yourself and Girl far as you can is good help, trust me. That storm's coming and it'll take root then sit a spell, which is good, but I have to beat it to Drywrack. I'll know what I'm looking for when I see it, then I'll find you. Wish we could do it a better way, but this is what we got."

Jared glanced at Asha, then found the bruise of the storm in the sky, narrowed on it same as Jensen had. "I promise. If you promise to ride safe."

"Always, kid. Always." Jensen caught Jared to him, smoothed one long, silken brow with his thumb and Jared tilted into his hand. They held there and stared a fill, silent and resolute, unafraid, until Jensen finally shook loose, walked them to Asha.

"Girl's got tender flanks, so don't go digging in or she's likely to argue."

"Good to know." Jared footed Jensen, gave him a boost then asked, "Anything you want to know about Asha?"

"Besides everything? Yeah, no, not really." He laughed wryly and looked up the sinuous coil of Asha's neck, the ground already far below despite still being solid upon it.

"It's not that different from riding a horse. Keep centered and low, then move with Asha instead of against him. If all else fails, just wrap your arms around his neck and hold on. Asha will get you there." Jared squeezed Jensen's leg.

Jensen nodded, decided he was all desperate, half crazy or completely right in his thinking.

Asha lowered his head and Jared moved to meet him, and the two seemed to share a wealth of things in a short exchange. Things that Jensen had a sense of, things that maybe they were all starting to share--reassurance, trust, affection and a threading murmur of stern chastisement to behave, to be safe as promised. Then Jared leaned back to scratch Asha's eyeridge and Asha grunted, levered sideways then Jensen was surrounded by thrumming vibration, _vroomp-vroomp-vroomp_ as Asha's wings bested gravity and they were airborne, no hesitation in Asha's movements as they shot directly across the Widow, cold of her bowels in columns that broke the lifting thermals slowing them, then they dove from the high mouth of the gorge and out over open desert.

Jensen held on tight and swallowed rapidly, told himself not to vomit, not to vomit, didn't dare turn to check on Jared.

The flight to Drywrack was a blur, tears in Jensen's eyes from the stinging cold, and the land he usually relied on and thought he understood so well nothing but abstract shape and color. Asha talked to him, chirped and trilled, calmed and distracted him as they bent the wind. Jensen figured what the hell, described the kind of place they'd need to find in the canyon, asked Asha to be alert for the herd. Asha winged him into, then around the canyon, and they surveyed gaps and furrows and splintered vaults before they hit on the one that met Jensen's requirements.

He leaned harder into Asha, yelled, "Remember this spot, dragon! Yeah?"

Asha bobbed then tipped them in the air, side-to-side. The world spun uncomfortably and Jensen took that as a yes. Then Asha rolled them west, towards a grouping of smooth cliffs and pocked chambers. He kneed forward and Asha banked them for another view without getting too close, gurgled throatily and Jensen knew his supposition was correct. The herd might roam the entire of Drywrack, but sought shelter there.

He patted Asha. "Good boy." Grinned wide when Asha chortled happily.

Jensen was about to tell the dragon to find Jared next, but Asha was a step ahead, had already changed direction and was on the move. They circled the canyon a final time then Asha lilted them higher while Jensen watched the storm, uneasy that it'd gained so much on them, spread huge and punishing over who knew where Jared was, out there. He threw his arms around Asha's neck, locked his hands on his wrists, bent close and relied on the dragon to get them there.

When Asha put down Jensen was soaked to the skin and both were exhausted. Night and the storm had found them, left them gasping from its power and relentless surge, and Jensen had no idea of distance or hour or bearing. He stumbled to the ground, kept a hand on Asha's side and searched the gloom, managed a smile when a hazy flicker of light caught his attention, yellow and beckoning, and he didn't even question that it was Jared. Felt it, same as he knew Jared would be standing to greet them, same as Asha warm under his touch.

It was a scratch in the earth, a dirty cairn, and Asha barely tucked under the rocky overhang. Girl was hobbled at the mouth of the cave, froth and steam rising from her coat, just enough room for their bedroll behind the weakly uncertain fire Jared swayed beside. Jensen pushed his hat back and shrugged from his coat, stripped to his longjohns and fanned his clothes as he crossed to Jared, and it looked damn fine. He nodded and Jared nodded then they fell together, embraced and held then held tighter. Jared pulled him to the floor, weight of weariness and insistence to see to his own, and soon as Jensen was prone he was gone.

By morning the storm had abated but its menace remained, dark and churning low-hung and preventing dawn. Jensen yawned and rubbed his eyes, sat up to find Jared tending coffee and talking to Asha, and he quirked a grin, patted Girl's muzzle when she bumped it on his shoulder. The cairn was above any washout line, was an unremarkable dig of dirt and sandstone, and past its slope was the eastern face of Drywrack.

"I figure it's an hour's ride to the canyon, and we have about an hour and a half before the round-up starts. So, drink up." Jared leaned over Jensen and dropped a cup into Jensen's hand.

They drank quickly, and Jensen didn't have the stomach to eat or minutes to waste doing it. He grimaced as he got dressed, forcing arms and legs into stiff and clammy, unforgiving clothes, decided it was a step up from sopping. Jared had loosened everything but hadn't unsaddled Girl, so punishing a turnaround and no room for anything undone anyway, and Jensen set to getting her ready to ride. Then he squared his shoulders, found Jared and Asha waiting for his word.

"We don't have time for complicated." Jensen slung his coat around Jared's shoulders, popped his hat on Jared's head. At Jared's raised eyebrow he explained, "Figure Ugly and the rest of Mineral Lick will be there. Without my coat and hat, I don't much stand out."

Jared sputtered a laugh, then pinched Jensen's cheek.

"What?" Jensen demanded.

"Oh, I called him Ugly too, is all," Jared said quietly, but his eyes danced. It just barely mollified.

Jensen shook back Jared's hand, said pointedly, "Anyway. I'm gonna ride Girl in the round-up, and I want you and Asha to get in there then lie in wait. The mob will likely try and smoke the herd to run it into open range, then net or harpoon many as can be gotten. But I'm thinking the herd put in for the night, and with that storm still threatening, there's no reason for those dragons to risk being out in it. We gotta roust them from their den, then wrangle them into a gap, throttle their escape."

"And with all that rain, if we get them into the right place, they won't be able to land or fly too far to either side."

Jensen nodded, glad Jared's deduction aligned with his. "Yup. That'll flush out the stallion, too, not just spook the mares, and he's the key to taking the whole herd. Asha knows that right place, found it yesterday."

Jared frowned. "Okay, so I'm riding Asha, but what am I waiting for? And then what after that?"

"The mob's scouts are using red flares to signal when they've spotted the herd. I've got a green one. Wait for that, then tell Asha to head for the gap. I'll find you. It'll be a good bit relying on chance, and it's nigh on thin it'll even work, but it's the only chance we got."

Jared considered it, stared past Jensen's shoulder into the stormclouds and Drywrack further on, took a minute then he nodded. "Jensen, I-"

"-can do this. I know, kid. And you will."

Jared pulled a face, then he grabbed Jensen's lapels, tilted sideways and pressed in. "Jensen, I have never been stupid but have been called more than foolish, on occasion. Today's occasion, I'm foolish enough to agree and then say we are going to do this, together. That and I-" He paused, held a beat but for once Jensen had nothing, so he boosted to mash his lips over Jensen's, a moment, a breath, then he grinned. "-love you. Now, ride safe, and I'll see you on the other side of the sky."

Jensen's ears roared and he stared, slack-jawed, but Jared was already turned from him and climbing astride Asha, then Asha nodded and took off.

He didn't allow himself to linger, and Girl met him halfway then he was riding hard for the canyon, watched the low shadow of Asha and Jared as they stayed close to the ground. The air was dense, smelled of ozone and anticipation, and when he arrived the mob was mostly gathered and readied, but Jensen having to settle for being at the fringe near the back of the group bothered him none. He wanted to avoid contact and being seen, but more than that, soon as the mob was off and clear, he'd be riding the other way.

A horn sounded and the mob shouted, bunched then surged, men pushing their horses to vie and jostle for ground and keep from tangling and going down. Jensen made himself stay, Girl coiled but cool, and it wasn't until the dust from the last of the riders had swelled that Jensen yah'd Girl into a run and they cut a brutal turn to meet then follow the canyon's opposite edge.

He watched the mob cross a swift of water that was rain-fed, watched some get bogged into mired dust turned to mud and the riders get tossed as horses staggered, watched as they climbed to where there were only frustrating mazes of rock and rock folds. He hated to think of anything at all, especially anything like _just that easy_ , hunched his shoulders and talked to Girl, cajoled and kept her at speed as they ran on.

Jensen searched for the dens, for the trees and rocks he'd seared into his mind as markers of getting close, closer, then there, shot off his flare to the north and far west where he knew Asha would see. Then he dismounted, tied the reins to the saddlehorn and came around to curl his fingers in the bridle, looked Girl in the eye.

"You get on back, this trail here," he tapped the soft dirt with a boot, indicated a side path ending in a quiet dell that hadn't been waterlogged and was at the end of the gap. "Wait for me there and I'll even get you some sugarlumps. Okay?"

Girl whickered but stood firm, not quite as understanding as he'd come to appreciate in a dragon. He led Girl a few steps down the path. "Git on, now. Git!" then slapped her rump, and she huffed but did as told, trotted away without looking back.

Jensen kept moving, kept on, because there wasn't anything else to do. He began to climb down towards the dens, managed not to kill himself grappling onto one of the outcrops, when he heard Asha bugle. He raised both arms and waved, headed into the den with brash, no choice decisiveness, found a sleeping giant curled inside.

It was a mare and Jensen was relieved--riling the stallion here would do no good--and he tiptoed closer, heard as Asha landed. He reached and poked the dragon's eyelid, poked again, then he turned and made for Asha as the dragon woke, grumbed and stirred.

Asha puffed and waggled and waved his wings, called deep and long until the mare responded and the stallion emerged. Jensen hurried onto Asha's back and leaned into Jared, and the stallion chirred and approached as Asha continued to demonstrate for the mare. Lightning forked overhead but didn't drop, blinded the land vivid and bluewhite, then the stallion roared and decided enough was enough, bolted from his den.

He was huge, big as Asha with a greater wingspan, scales all gold and jade and turquoise swirled together. The mare argued, seemed to like what she'd seen of Asha, and the other mares were taking interest and had appeared. The stallion threatened, showed his teeth and neck and stretch of his wings, then he reared and snapped and Asha leapt from the outcrop and took flight.

They were given chase, the stallion and the one mare, and further behind a straggling line of the other mares, more than Jensen could reasonably count as they dodged and wove through the air. He saw a line of red flares, laughed thinking the mob would alert at having seen this, but from a distance and under this sky not like he and Jared riding would be obvious.

Asha pumped his wings and the stallion cut in, out, in, talons drawn and snapping. The gap was fast approaching, Asha leading them, then they shunted through the far opening, had to act now or their chance would be lost. If left to the dragons this would be resolved, but no doubt at the expense of one of the males and both Jensen and Jared.

Jensen shook Jared's hips. "You're the better dragonrider, you gotta jump for him. C'mon!"

"No! Jensen, you ride him at all it's enough. You won't be able to handle Asha and keep the mares under control." Jared curved to fit against Asha's neck, and Asha's wings slashed through the air, jabbed at one of the feistier mares.

"But-"

"-nothing. You can do this. Now go!"

Jared elbowed Jensen, hard, winded him and Jensen nodded. They didn't have any other choice, and here and now was no time to suddenly give up with no more than a bout of unvarnished fear and the prospect of certain death at failure to thank.

Jensen shoved a rough hand around Jared's jaw, leaned close and he charged, "Me too, kid. Okay?" He shot his breath, knew Jared would get what he meant. "Jared- mind yourself." Then he shucked away, tilted free, swung a leg over so he could perch on Asha's side and steeled himself.

The stallion swooped back in, zigzagged his neck and tail, tiring but still fighting, lashed at Asha. At a vulnerable sideswipe Jensen launched, dove from Asha into nothing. He wheeled his arms, slammed into the stallion, was sure one of the stallion's spineridges pierced his cheek, and the stallion bucked and thrashed but Jensen grit his teeth, would not let go.

He slipped and kicked and almost got thrown, dug in, checked the canyon-line below swollen and overrun with rain, then watched as the gap's sides narrowed in, and in, heard the dragons bark and chatter. He heaved himself, and hand over hand pulled up, got astride just as the gap closed and there was only room for the stallion to flip, fly through banked then straighten, then Asha crowded in and forced the stallion to land.

Jensen remained, got his right seat and made the stallion feel him there, know it, then he patted the dragon and slid to the ground. The stallion puffed, glad to be done with the chase, and Jensen nodded. "This canyon is now mine, and I aim to keep you here, take care of you. But the mares are still all yours, big guy." He grinned, amended, "Well, maybe except for the one."

The stallion gave up fighting, relaxed and settled, was wary but not defeated or afraid.

Jensen turned a slow circle, amazed and elated and almost struck dumb with disbelief, soaked in the whole scene.

The mob had started to rim the sloping canyon's estuary into the main of Drywrack, horses pawing and men grousing but most silent with due respect. Girl, grazing alongside the green-banked swallow of water, run down and along the trail as Jensen had commanded, steady and loyal as ever, unharmed. The herd, bowed because they'd tamed the stallion, but bowed without being broken, would stay as dragons, would live here and prosper same as he finally had claim to, could. Asha, proud, loyal and steady as Girl, making nice and getting somewhere with crooning at the mare Jensen had first roused.

Then Jared, every bit as brave and tenacious and wonderful as his dragon. Jared, definitely smart as anything, who'd prosper with him. Jared, who _did_ believe.

Jensen grinned, broke into a run, flipped his hat from Jared's head and kissed Jared, deep and unrestrained. Their rightness sang, their fit and their knowing. When they parted the rain had started again, soft, easy patters that teased more than it wet.

"We did it." Jensen dammed a rivulet of water with a finger as it curved over Jared's forehead. It all had gone fast, so fast, ran one thing into the other, but Jensen would never forget each moment, how it'd happened, what they'd done.

Jared beamed. "I told you."

"Yeah, you did." Jensen shook his head, could do nothing more than blaze on smiling, despite.

"Hear tell you started from nothing," Jared teased, had aged years and lifetimes, was still fresh and trusting, would always believe, in this. In them.

Jensen leaned in, murmured against the corner of Jared's mouth, "You heard right. But of course, that ain't the whole story."

"Hmmm." Jared smiled, swayed them. "Never is."

"True. What say I tell you the rest?"

Jared breathed and pressed their cheeks together, slipped his arms all the way around Jensen. "Only if you agree to listen to mine. Deal?"

"Deal." Jensen kissed Jared again, wrapped his arms all around, because it would always get him there.


End file.
